


The Hunt

by SunFlarerito



Category: dreamteam - Fandom
Genre: Being Hunted, Blood, Death, Fear, Gen, Manhunt - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:02:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28116636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunFlarerito/pseuds/SunFlarerito
Summary: George has been running from this masked man coming to kill him. He's been trying to survive, but this man is better at fighting than George ever will be.
Relationships: None
Kudos: 10





	The Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> I just wrote this randomly.
> 
> Enjoy.

George looked behind him, heart threatening to beat out of his chest. Sweat poured down his face and ran down his back. His breath was heavy and his grip was tight around the handle of his sword. He clutched onto it for dear life, afraid of what disasters would happen if he let go.

A brush of leaves to his left, too quick for the wind to have moved. George turned in that direction, his head quickly scanning the land. Where did he go?

The wind danced through the leaves and threw some off of the ground. They swirled around George and sent a chill down his spine. It was dark, cold, he was alone,  _ and  _ he was being chased. Perfect combinations.

The tall birch trees had started to lose their leaves in Autumn. The colors of brown, red, orange and yellow drifted off the stems and slowly made their way to the ground. It all felt surreal.

The leaves stilled and, for a moment, it seemed as if George was the only one in the forest. No deer or moose traveling, looking for a place under a tree, to rest. No squirrels running up a tree to store their acorns for the winter. No birds flying away, squawking up in the sky as they headed off to migrate for the Winter. No sounds of anyone’s breathing except for George’s. Besides his panicked breath and the leaves underfoot, the forest was still and silent.

It made George panic more.

He held his sword up and paced slowly through the scene. He kept his head swiveled, looking everywhere for the danger. His breath was still heavy, but he quieted it down in hopes to not give away his location.

The trees casted shadows along the ground and on the trunks of other trees; some made George jump in fright, thinking that it was his stalker, coming from the hidden bushes scattered around to kill him.

It was unsettling and it raised his heart rate. It probably wasn’t a good thing that he couldn’t calm himself. He felt on edge a lot lately. He was getting sick of it.

“George.” A quiet echo of his voice cascaded through the trees. It was calm and collected, unlike the way George was feeling after hearing his name being called out. His hairs on his arms, legs, and the back of his neck stood up and panic washed over him like a surfer being drowned by a wave. He hated every bit of it.

A single step and George heard the crunching of leaves. He didn’t cause that. That was someone else.  _ Something _ else.

George didn’t know exactly  _ what _ his pursuer was. A man in a stupid lime jacket and a stupid white mask with a smiley face painted on it. It seemed like a joke, the mask, but George found it absolutely terrifying. The attacker seemed to be incredible in skill. He could parkour around the trees like Tarzan and could swing an axe like nothing other. He was insane. George feared him with every cell in his body. Even though he seemed human, the way he acted proved otherwise.

“Oh George.” His name echoed through the woods again. George lifted up his sword higher and backed up the slightest bit. The hilt of his sword slipped a little in his grasp due to the sweat that formed on his palms. He wiped each hand on his pants to try and clear them, but it didn’t help. His panic only made him sweat more.

George backed up more until his back hit a tree. He kept his sword aimed at the direction of the voice. He took a deep breath, afraid to blink. He sat there for minutes, not hearing another footstep.

It was now that he started second guessing everything.

Was he imagining it all? Was his brain pulling pranks on him and giving him the irrational fear that someone, or thing, was chasing him through the woods? Was he having hallucinations about the creepy stalker guy with the mask and hoodie? Was any of this real? Did he imagine that this hunter’s name was Dream and he was chasing after George?

George lowered his sword somewhat as he thought about the possibilities. That’s when the man attacked, when George’s guard was down.

“C’MERE GEORGE!” Dream dashed out of the bushes that George suspected earlier that he might be hiding in. He swung his axe and George snapped his mind back to attention and yelped as the axe came for his head. He ducked under and grabbed his sword, pulling it up to block another attack from Dream.

He looked up and saw Dream’s face. A wide grin was plastered on him and his eyes were green and were full with glee, as if he enjoyed this, trying to kill George. The silly mask he wore was pushed to one side of his face. This way, George could see his eyes.

Dream tugged his axe back and swung at George’s feet. George rolled to the side and jumped out of the way as the axe came crashing down. George took this moment, as the axe was deep in the dirt, to swing his sword up and slice Dream on his left arm.

Dream hissed at him and wrapped his right hand over the cut. He took it off and stared at the red blood now staining his hand. Blood seeped from the cut and got all over the green hoodie. Dream turned slowly to look at George. His face was no longer a smile, yet a gruesome look that said “You’ll regret that.”

George had a feeling that he knew he would.

Dream yanked the axe from the grass and chased after George as he made a desperate attempt to escape Dream.

Dream leapt at George, hands outstretched. He landed on him and tackled him to the ground with a  _ thud _ .

George groaned and rolled onto his back. He was pretty sure he hit a branch on his way down.

Dream sat on top of George and shook his head as he came to. He grabbed his axe and heaved it over his head.

George lost his breath as it raced out of him. His chest started rising and falling with the speed of a cheetah. His hands were raised by his head, unable to do anything. He couldn’t move. He had dropped his weapon and had no proper defense against Dream.

Dream’s mouth had faded back to his gleeful smile as he held the axe overhead.

“Goodbye George.” he sang and the axe came tumbling down.


End file.
